The Gravedigger

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A grand continent constructed by the Architects of Old, contains living structures infused with Naten. Long since destroyed by the Horsemen, and again vanquished by their heralds. But slowly recovers to this day. What could be here that persists its own destruction so thoroughly?
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Michio Tribe
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The Gravedigger

Post by Michio Tribe » Thu May 02, 2019 8:00 pm

Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the song of the gravedigger as he toiled ceaselessly day and night. Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the grave digger under Vescrutia’s pale moons alight, one reflected the green hue of the sun, the other aglow with a slight pink. Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the gravedigger the repeated cadence hypnotizing him into a repetitive think. The moons light illuminated the sweat across his chisled back, and reflected his silver hair he shifted in a receptive motion with every Slip, Chunk, Ssshh. Slip, He’d shove the crystal spade into the ground, Chunk place his foot upon the space, Ssshh, with a heave he’d toss the dirt into a nearby pile and repeat the motion until it was 8 feet deep. Countless empty graves surrounded him from horizon to horizon, with proportionate dirt piles beside them. Still the Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went his shovel the gravedigger worked into a frenzy. These grave would remain empty.

The Ravagers leave no trace of their skill. Bits and pieces perhaps but that was a sign of their generosity. Still The Gravedigger could estimate the total of their kills when the sky fell upon the Abyss that day. He was a murder true, a Destroyer at best. It was his craft and he perfected it. But it was one thing to take life, but another to have it entrusted in your hands and have it taken. So he Slip, Chunk, Ssshh’d all night long until there was a grave dug for every life lost in Kemet. His compound was full of life and grit only the strongest could stand in his wake. The strongest warriors, cooks, artist, singers, tavern keepers wanted to be associated with his name. ‘I keep company with The Destroyer’ it made them feel like he, invincible. But they were so incredibly vulnerable, more than they ever were.

He remembered when picked the spot to set up camp. Completely flat, and endless rolling plain. Tall blades of grass shifted arrogantly challenging someone to seat upon their terrain. 5 jagged stone obelisks pulsing with Naten encased this section of arcturus like fingers of Kemet. The archaic ruins cradled this field in its palms. All else was flat terrain, you could see endlessly across the planet it seemed, the entirety of the sun’s rise, the full breath of the sun set, it was truly beautiful. You could see the entire tide of Ravagers approach, a fleshly, rabid, howling wave. Their numbers outweighed his 30-1, 300,000 graves were dug. Kham was panting, exhausted.The Slip, Chunk, Ssshh’d were all done. The Grave digger sat down his shovel and surveyed his land, surveyed all those he let down. Entire bloodlines were wiped from history that day. And no one to remember their names but he.

The gravedigger stood still. The wind would eventually fill the graves again. But every year the gravedigger returned to remember the names, because no one else would but he. So he sat, cross legged and recited them from memory. Silently. To himself, with no company but his shame and his guilt.


This is a pen-name account which writes from the narrative perspective of:
Michio Kham, T'ajsa Michio, Gaia- The Divine Anima, The Devout (and its members)
Michio Tribe Lore

Everything posted by this account is official property of ©Vescrutia2018, no reproduction, or reposting of this content identical to or closely resembling is allowed.

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Michio Tribe
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Re: The Gravedigger

Post by Michio Tribe » Thu May 09, 2019 9:35 pm

Every year on the anniversary the Sky Fell, did the Gravedigger return to this place to sit among the company of his old friend, his first friend, Silence. Not to be confused with peace. Silence was always there for The Gravedigger throughout the many stages of his terribly long life. The early stages when all he did was scream. Scream at the suns. Scream at anyone who would listen. Scream at the moons. When he learned to embrace silence, it comforted him. He fought to bring silence back, imposing it upon anything that ruined it, smashing and breaking all that interrupted it. And that just made so many more graves than these. The gravedigger would laugh that it took an entire army to make the amount of graves he could make in alone. But this was his life, his legacy, his memories. Pitfalls of regret, filled with terrible memories of those who did and did not deserve the end of his knuckles. And as the Grave Digger murmured the names of the fallen he paused and dribbled…

“I’m sorry Keisha.”

As if dragged down by the magnitude of his guilt, his face hit the floor with a mighty thump and he wet the soil with his tears. The Gravedigger sobbed.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

And by the flood of his tears, the walls he put up around his mind, keeping the tide of guilt at bay were unleashed. Memories of Kisha Mitre drowned The Great Destroyer in his own guilt. The scars were so fresh, the ones she applied upon his body they day they first met. The day she challenged him in the arena. Kemet was alive and well. The abyss the Gravedigger hurried his head bastardized the past from which it game. The legacy of the Architects of Old a masterfully built city who, even in ruins baffled modern day mathematicians with freestanding structures, bound together as if magnetized by Naten who, when damaged, regenerated to near full form. People made homes out of these ruins and Kham chose this expansive plane, enclosed in giant fractured obelisks to create an area from a blank slate. After settling here with TJ, baby Atra, Kay-no and eventually domesticating Cross he made himself quite the family and settled as champion of the arena thereafter. Strengthening those who wanted to get stronger, and challenging anyone who dare contest him. But never had he thought he was going to lose his life until he fought Kisha Mitre. Oh did the scars burn, the wounds and memories were still fresh.

He had seen many fights that day, and the dueling suns were nearing the end of their long shift clinging to the sea of clouds. When an entire herd of grisly folk stepped to the arena claiming they wish to stay in Kemet. All eyes fell to Kham, who by no means ‘allowed’ anyone to not stay. The place was so expansive anyone could take root. But they didn’t just want to stay, they wanted to stay and be respected. That, is why the crowds yielded to him. That, is why he stood up from his chair that day and asked who spoke for them. And that was when she introduced herself. The sea of vagabonds parted revealing a woman with beautiful brown skin, covered in cuts, no hair, or even arms wrapped in mummified bandages around her torso. She claimed she spoke for the group, she said her name was Kisha, and she would gladly fight for their right to remain in Kemet.

Kham reiterated that they needn’t fight to stay, anyone was welcome to stay but Kisha playfully said her tribe had a long journey across the seas and she could use a good workout before they rest for the night. Her tribe laughed. And Kham yielded to his daughter who was already shouting obscenities as this group. Even then Kham could sense something in Kisha, and maybe it was just his awakened power as King of Beast, but the two were very similar. Absolutely unafraid, and we’re always bloodthirsty. The crowds were silent, perhaps privy of what Kham could sense. Kisha hadn’t heard of The Great Destroyer, The Gravedigger hadn’t heard of The Mitre. And the crowd let the gravediggers familiar friend silence coach him through the battle, silence and his daughter who wouldn’t stop trash talking. The Gavedigger never underestimated a foe, no matter how many limbs they had but as soon as he tried gauging her strength by keeping her at a distance, overwhelming her with volleys of shockwaves by his powerful punches. The air seemed to part around Kisha, she never moved an inch. And The gravedigger could hear the subtle screech the wind made when it neared her skin, like the sundering of parchment or the grinding of metal against metal. Kisha never taunted nor jibed during the fight. And to make sure Kham wasn’t hallucinating he tossed some crystalized heavy sand her way, only for her to stay put and sever it at the microfibers.

Thats when Kham knew exactly what they had in common. It wasn’t her power that proved it, it was her face. So totally composed, an earned confidence of years of battle. Not only did they share bloodlust, but they knew they were incredibly dangerous.
This is a pen-name account which writes from the narrative perspective of:
Michio Kham, T'ajsa Michio, Gaia- The Divine Anima, The Devout (and its members)
Michio Tribe Lore

Everything posted by this account is official property of ©Vescrutia2018, no reproduction, or reposting of this content identical to or closely resembling is allowed.

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